


Nice lolly

by RoughTweedAction (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Graphic description of ice cream consumption, Ice Cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 18:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10542417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/RoughTweedAction
Summary: The Iceman loves ice cream. No depth here, just licking ice cream.





	

Mycroft had always loved sweets. From the earliest days when good behaviour was rewarded with lollipops. He wanted to blame his mother for his mild sugar addiction, but he knew it was not true. Sherlock soothed the pain of his existence with drugs, Mycroft did the same with lollies, puddings and biscuits.

His favourite sweet treat was ice cream. Not any ice cream, of course. Only the plain, cream-flavoured ones. That was the wisest choice and the simplest way to judge the quality of ice cream. Without additions like chocolate flakes, syrups or artificial flavours, there was no way to hide any imperfection. The ice cream was either good or bad and Mycroft, who lied and deceived on a daily basis, appreciated that sort of honesty. Besides, it was the favourite flavour of the old, traditional, sentimental people and deep inside, Mycroft knew he was one of them. Expressing sentiment in his interactions with Sherlock felt awkward while letting it influence his choice of dessert seemed natural.

There was something comforting about holding a wafer cone on a sunny day, like repeating a centuries-long ritual. Everyone did it and everyone loved it. Problems like tracking down terrorists seemed so distant when the frozen sweetness was melting on his tongue. Mycroft closed his eyes and leant in for the first lick. Small, careful, just to check if it was palatable. The tip of his tongue rubbed against the shapely scoop and he shivered in delight. Yes, it was good. Tasted like heavy cream with just the right amount of sugar. Perfection, exactly what he expected. The youth around him excitedly devoured their brightly-coloured, weirdly-flavoured ice cream, not knowing what they were missing. The boring, creamy ice cream was the equivalent of the perfect brew- no sugar, no milk, no lemon. Just tea. Mycroft did not mind the patronising looks, _oh, you see this guy? what a snob, too posh for salted caramel ice cream._

After a few almost shy licks, the ice cream was beginning to melt, both from the warmth of his mouth and the sunlight. Mycroft swirled his tongue around the top of the scoop, then closed his lips around it. Oh, God, yes. Who cared about unimportant things like counting calories or high triglycerides levels in the moment of such intense pleasure? Certainly not Mycroft. He would eat steamed broccoli for lunch and the balance in the universe would be restored. For now, he focused on licking every inch of the scoop, from the top to the sides, making sure to avoid it melting onto his hand. He even took small bites and rubbed the little morsel against his palate with his tongue.

Much too soon, he reached that awkward moment when he had to start nibbling on the cone and the hard, uneven edges made long, luxurious licks quite difficult. Biting on the cone and mouthing at the melting scoop, the cycle of pleasure and frustration. He dipped his tongue into the depths of the cone and then usual the disaster happened. The bottom of the cone gave in and the melted ice cream tricked down Mycroft's hand. He was so dirty and sticky and absurdly pleased with himself. Yes, eating ice cream was often a mess, uncontrollable and oddly satisfying.

The last bit of the soggy wafer and it was over. Mycroft licked his lips, enjoying the rare moment of uninterrupted bliss. There it was, the lingering sweet taste on his tongue, the purest happiness, How could Sherlock say that was bad for him? Mycroft did not feel bad. He needed a reward for not washing his hands of his mad family. The thought of coming back to London and dealing with yet another completely avoidable crisis caused by his brother or checking how the new governor of Sherrinford was doing inspired Mycroft to buy one more scoop. He deserved it.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to find the English name of the cream-flavoured ice cream but I guess there isn't? Huh. That's funny bc that's the best flavour. In my country, it's called lody śmietankowe, chosen mostly by the elderly.


End file.
